The Puppet of Amestris
by Velgamidragon
Summary: COMPLETED. The Amestrian citizens weren't the only ones dancing on strings. Bradley was as much a puppet as the rest of them. Perspectives from different characters regarding Fuhrer Bradley from the beginning of his life to his death.
1. All for Science

The Puppet of Amestris

**Author's Note: My first series of oneshots for FMA. This will be Brotherhood/manga-based, of course. I decided to make this mostly because I've been thinking a lot about Bradley's character. With having to play at pretending to be a human while being a human-hating homunculus, it makes it difficult to discern what his true character is, which is, I suppose, what makes him so interesting. So I decided to start from Bradley's beginnings and slowly move in chronological order (or at least as close as I can get) to his death. So naturally, the first one is from the perspective of the Gold-Toothed Doctor.**

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><p><strong>All for Science<strong>

This was the greatest experiment of his career as well as all the other scientists here. By order of the leader of the homunculi, they were going to see if it was possible to make a homunculus out of a human. The fourth child, Envy, had scoffed at it, the second child, Lust, was skeptical, and none of the others had seen fit to comment. The doctor, for that was also what he was, did not question it, but took to the assignment with a perverse pleasure that only the mentally-unstable could appreciate. And he was quite excited about the project! When they succeeded (for he didn't believe in permanent failure), all seven of the homunculi would be created, a truly momentous occasion! He didn't care if this meant that everyone in the country was killed, so long as he had his science and experimentation. That was when he was truly happy and nothing else mattered. But it would be a while yet. The father of the homunculi wanted his newest son to become the Fuhrer of the country, so they would have to train many candidates for the position before they could take the 'final exam' where they would probably die if they failed or become a homunculus if they succeeded. The boys before him were all about ten years old now. All wearing identical suits. All sitting in identical high-backed, red-cushioned chairs. All perfect prospective Fuhrers. All perfect homunculi candidates. Only one would walk away with both. But that test wouldn't be for another decade at least.

"Now which one of you will be the one to step forward and lead this country?" he asked, rhetorically, to the group at large and stopped before a youth with scruffy black hair and dark green eyes that stared up at him without feeling. This was Prospective Fuhrer Candidate Number 12. He smiled at the boy, revealing his one gold tooth. "How about you?"

Perhaps this one would succeed or perhaps he would fail. It didn't matter to him either way so long as his scientific progress continued unimpeded.

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><p><em>Man, either the Gold-toothed doctor is a lot like Tucker or I was borrowing some of Tucker's characterization when I was writing this. Either way, HE'S CREEPY! DX (and not like Pride creepy...)<em>


	2. A Father's Wrath

**Author's Note: And now for the man who dictated Bradley's entire life in the first place, Father. Also, if anyone recognizes it, I made a reference to a drawing on DeviantART done by HighwindEngineer03 and it's actually thanks to her and all her drawings that I love Wrath and the Bradley family so much. If you're a Wrath, Pride, WrathxMrs. Bradley, and/or Bradley family fan, then you should definitely check out her stuff.**

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><p><strong>A Father's Wrath<strong>

Father had just received word from the scientists that the Fuhrer candidates were ready for their final test. It had been twenty years since the project had begun and about twenty-five years since he had ordered its commencement. These things took time to organize themselves after all, but he had been patient and his waiting had finally come to an end. By the end of the day, he hoped that he would have a new son that would be able to help further his plans. This son would be the essence of the last of his sins and to be honest, he wasn't sure how it would go. After all, he'd never made a son with a human base, so there was no way of knowing the results of such a venture or if it was even possible. But no matter, it had to be done. The Promised Day was soon, about forty years away and everything had to be ready in time. He needed a homunculus directly controlling human affairs as soon as possible.

When he arrived in the lab room, the scientists greeted him with respect and reverence, but he hardly acknowledged them save to give the leader of them, the gold-toothed doctor, the philosopher's stone that contained only the most wrathful souls of all those in Xerxes. The man accepted it gratefully and with a crazed look in his eyes. It was impossible _not_ to see the ecstasy that the man was experiencing for this day. Father was excited too, but his expressions were tremendously muted and stone-like in comparison to the alchemy doctor, scientist, whatever he chose to be.

Father watched impassively off to the side as one-by-one, the candidates came into the room, were strapped down to the table, had the philosopher's stone injected into their bloodstream, died, and were unceremoniously thrown away into a storage room until they could be properly disposed of. Two... Four... Nine... Eleven... The scientists were disappointed too. How many more would die before he had a new son? Or was it simply completely impossible to use a human as a base for a homunculus. If that was the case, then he would be sincerely annoyed at having wasted twenty precious years trying to create something that could not be made. The next one arrived, another young man, this one with smooth, close-cut black hair and dark green eyes. This one would be Number 12. When he was strapped down, he glanced over at the storage room, saw what happened to his fellows, and there was fear in his voice and his eyes. What human wouldn't be afraid? But perhaps this one wouldn't remain so and he strode over to the table.

"You are the twelfth candidate," he stated and the young man's head jerked up to look at him in surprise. Clearly, he had not sensed him coming. Human senses were just so pathetically inept. He bent over 90 degrees and stared intently into the candidate's green, fearful eyes. "Do _you_ have what it takes to become my fury? My _wrath_," he asked, almost mockingly.

He didn't believe he would. There was so much fear in those eyes that it seemed highly unlikely that this one would survive, but his words had distracted the young man from the philosopher's stone being injected into his veins until the deed was done. Father stepped well back and watched impassively as the same process happened to this one too. In about a minute or two, depending upon the stubbornness of the man, he would die just like all the others. Two minutes. Okay, so he was one of those stubborn ones. Three minutes. Hmm... perhaps he was a bit stronger than he thought. Four minutes. Father frowned slightly; they didn't usually take this long to die. Five minutes. Neither Father nor the scientists fully understood what was happening, but something different was going on for this particular candidate and they all waited with bated breath, thinking the same thing. Could this one be the one...? Another five minutes later, the screams and violent red light finally died away, and the scientists slowly approached the table. The candidate was twitching violently like a rabbit and both his eyes were shut tight. There were no injuries on him, he was alive, and none of them saw the philosopher's stone fall to the ground which could only mean one thing... They had succeeded.

"It's amazing!" one of them exclaimed as they went about untying the straps.

"We've made a new type of human!" cried another. The final strap was undone and the candidate's right hand immediately shot up to his face.

"Congratulations," the gold-toothed doctor told the young man as he slowly sat up, still covering his face with his hand, apparently still in pain, "You've been chosen to lead mankind down the path of destiny. Everything has been arranged to provide you with all that you will need." He had finally moved his hand away from his face and now Father could clearly see the Ouroboros tattoo on his left eye. "From now on, your name will be... King Bradley."

Father had picked out that name, himself, since his other children had been so useless in coming up with a good name. 'Max Powers' with the 'e' written backwards was Pride's suggestion. Do you know how embarrassing it is when your oldest child can't spell a simple word? He understood how important it was for Pride to pass off as a little boy, but did he need to bring it down here? Lust had suggested 'Jack McBulge' of all things. Could that girl really not keep her mind out of the gutter? Sloth was still digging the tunnel, but Pride had sent his shadows on ahead to give him a piece of paper to write it down, and unsurprisingly, his response came back blank. He honestly didn't know why he'd bothered. Sloth and thinking were arch-enemies. Envy, his hot-headed child wanted to call him 'Inferior Retard'; probably to boost his own self-esteem, but really, he should have called Gluttony that, considering that the name _he_ suggested was his catchprase 'Can I eat him?' Needless to say, the name he picked was the best of the lot.

"And to the rest of our family, you, my youngest son, shall be known as Wrath," Father said as he stepped forward again and all heads turned to him. "Come. Let my introduce you to your siblings."

A name, an identity, a purpose, a life; he had given his youngest son everything he would ever need. So now, in exchange, Wrath would help him to achieve his own goals. The world was ruled by equivalent exchange, and it was a fair trade. But hopefully, in forty years with Wrath's help so long as his son did his duty and remained loyal to him, his loving father, he would no longer need to concern himself with the world's laws and consequences.

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><p><em>Father still doesn't understand a darn thing about humans ever after all these centuries of <strong>not<strong> being a dwarf in a flask, but I suppose it takes one to know one. (lol, and he has no sense of creativity)_


	3. The Baby of the Family

**Author's Note: This one will be set-up a little differently from the others seeing as there are seven homunculi (though one of them is Wrath and only five will have a perspective cause Greed didn't even know Wrath existed, seeing as he'd left 40 years before Wrath was even born). But yes, in case you couldn't tell, this one will be for the homunculi.**

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><p><strong>The Baby of the Family<strong>

"Children, I'd like to introduce to you, your newest brother, Wrath. He is to become the leader of Amestris and to the humans, he shall be known as King Bradley," their father said as he gestured to the very confused young man slightly behind and to his left. None of his children responded. They simply stared and observed the new homunculus.

_Pride:  
><em>He was the eldest of the seven and as such, he was the most loyal and most trusted of Father's children. It was why he was always the one who lived with a government official to make sure that everything was going according to Father's plans. This new homunculus, _Wrath_, seemed to be usurping his position by becoming the leader of the country. Did Father not trust him? No, that wasn't it, and he knew it. They still had a lot of crests of blood to complete, two of which were some of the largest ones on the pentagon, and they only had forty years to do it. There was only so much that Pride, masquerading as a _sweet_ and _innocent_ little boy, could do to get the humans to go to war at the correct locations. Having a homunculus in charge of the entire country would ensure that everything happened on time. Still, despite the logic of the situation, Pride couldn't help but feel like he was being replaced, and he didn't like it. So from that moment on, he swore to make it as unhelpful as possible for the new homunculus without being a nuisance (that was more Envy's style: to be so difficult that he would be what the humans call 'a pest', and annoying _him_, Pride, was _never_ a good idea) until he'd proved himself worthy of the name, Wrath. And another trivial matter, he was disappointed that Father hadn't picked the name he'd suggested, but at least Father hadn't chosen any of the names his _other_ siblings had suggested either.

_Lust:  
><em>The first thing that Lust noticed was that her newest brother was, by _far_, the most attractive of her brothers yet. He was young and in his prime, broad and physically robust, no doubt from all the intense physical training necessary to prepare him as Fuhrer. But it was his face and his eyes -well, eye, the left one was covered by an eyepatch, she had to wonder about that- that really struck her fancy. His face was set and his eye was cold and calculating which was a strong contrast to the anxious air he gave. It meant that he was tensing, not to run, but to fight for his life, and she liked that. Another brother with a spine. After Greed, she had thought there was no more courage left to give, but apparently there was enough for Wrath, here. Young and good-looking with plenty of mettle to spare. Even the eyepatch, normally a _horrid_ fashion statement, served his appearance well and gave him a rugged, experienced look. The supposed experience usually meant confidence, and those two factors would go over well with the current military leaders. All in all, King Bradley was a _fine_ choice for Fuhrer and a new brother.

_Greed: *Unexcused Absence* -punish later for skipping-_

_Envy:  
><em>That... damn _punk_! How _dare_ he stand there acting so... so... there was a word Envy was thinking of describe him, but he couldn't recall what it was, and frankly, he was too angry to care. Envy knew that look in a heartbeat. It was something that all _humans_ had when they battled. It was the fire of life and that burning desire to survive! That _bastard_! How did Wrath have it? How did _Wrath_ have that humanity that he so desperately craved! ! !

_Sloth: *Excused Absence*  
><em>Sloth was too busy digging the tunnel under the country to be present for Wrath's initiation, but if he'd been there, he probably would have either said that it was "such a pain", whatever 'it' was, or he'd have been sleeping... probably the latter... if Pride would have let him...

_Gluttony:  
><em>Gluttony didn't think much. That was why he always followed his older sister, Lust. He only knew about things that affected him, like that he was hungry... all the time... He stared with blank eyes at the man standing next to Father. He was his younger brother. He was a homunculus too. That didn't mean anything to Gluttony except one thing.

"So, I can't eat him?"

Wrath had _no_ idea how to respond to _that_ one.

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><p><em>I went in order from oldest homunculus to youngest. Greed will get his later (after he actually meets Bradley of course). Also, I didn't want to write too much for Envy because I had already expanded on his feelings towards his youngest brother in another fic of mine called 'Humanity'. lol, I like writing unhappy Pride.<em>


	4. A King and His Queen

**Author's Note: And now for the one thing that Bradley chose for himself. God, I love this pairing so much. They're so adorable together and easily one of my favorite pairings! XD**

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><p><strong>A King and His Queen<strong>

She was not the romantic type, and she never claimed to be. She had been quite happy working at the bookshop, but right at this moment, she'd have thought she'd landed herself in some kind of fairy tale. Here she was, standing before the minister next to the man she loved in a simple white dress that could have easily passed off as a summer dress. And King... gosh, he was so dashing in his dress military uniform. He wasn't wearing the jacket, but the pants were the black ones and his white long-sleeved shirt was buttoned up all the way to the top of the collar. To think that it had only been two years ago since they had met and she had first slapped him. She had been so furious with him then, but now, she looked upon it as nothing more than a sweet memory. Same with the second time she slapped him. She had learned _that_ day just how socially clueless and awkward he was. She was also of the opinion that it was the first time he had ever tried to smile in his life (it was very obvious, it looked quite painful). Once she had reached this conclusion, she had instantly forgiven his would-have-been-insults-if-they-were-intentional, took him by the hand, and taught him how to be a gentleman.

She had been impressed with how quickly he had absorbed the lessons she had given him. He was an avid student and so desperate to please her, that she found his behavior absolutely adorable, like a puppy eager for its parent's praise. After she had taught him basic manners, they moved on to formal etiquette and he was even more attentive than she had thought possible whenever she described proper interactions between a man and a woman. It wasn't until afterwards when King asked to court her that she realized that he had been smitten with her since she had smiled at him for the first time (after she had slapped him the second time) and that he had been trying to figure out how to ask her out properly ever since. She had been both flattered and embarrassed. Nobody had ever asked to court her before and he had been so forward and sincere with her too. It was almost like he was treating this as he would a battle, with that same stubborn, unyielding look in his eyes. He was persistent and adorable. Her heart melted and she let him court her and their first date was absolutely fantastic! King made such a genuine effort to impress her and boy, did he exceed her expectations. She had taught him well.

Since their first date and his mastery of formal etiquette, they learned more together and about each other. For instance, King could tell her that he had promoted one of his subordinates to a First Lieutenant, and she would understand what that meant, and now King could grow his own melons (a food that she had chanced discovering that he thoroughly enjoyed the taste of). Over the years, they had both discovered that the other possessed a fiery temper to rival theirs, but she always won their arguments before they even really started, so there was almost no confrontation (which was why it took her so long to discover that he _had _such a temper). It was at times like those that she wondered if King had an older sister who had taught him that it was futile to argue with a woman.

Then had come the time when he had been sent off to lead troops at the war front with Creta, the first war since she had met him, and she had missed him terribly during his absence, fearing that he wouldn't come back even though he could work wonders with a sword, she knew, for she had seen his swordsmanship firsthand in combat training with other soldiers and knew him to be magnificent. After what had felt like an eternity, the war had ended and she had been so overwhelmed with joy that she burst into tears as soon as she saw him on the train platform and ran to greet him, not unlike other young couples, but it didn't matter. King was home safe and in-tact; that was all she cared about. She was so happy that she had barely even heard him tell her that he had been promoted all the way up to Lieutenant General during his tenure there and that he had been summoned to a meeting with all the senior military staff.

The meeting itself hadn't been all that long, but it felt like it, and when King left the room, he had an oddly smug look on his face. When she had asked him about it, he'd only kissed her and told her not to worry about it, before leading the way home. She didn't understand his unusual secretiveness until he had dragged her out to the garden, plucked the ripest melon, and held it in his hands as he told her that he had been chosen as the next Fuhrer for his exceptional leadership, courage, ingenuity, and initiative on the battlefield, and then he got down on his knees and presented the melon to her, asking if she would become his wife. Some women might have been disappointed by being presented a _melon_ as a gift, but not her. She knew her King too well. To be offered a melon, his favorite food in the entire world, was the highest honor and the most meaningful proposal he could have made, and she had expected no less of him. It would have been quite out of character, otherwise. She couldn't get the melon out of his hands fast enough and then she slapped him again (the third time in his life), but this time, scolding him for taking so long to propose, and he smiled. She had thought she knew King, but she never suspected that he would be the type that would want to elope. It was a surprise, but a good one, and she agreed, and that was how she ended up here.

A strong hand found hers and squeezed it gently, the owner leaning towards her and whispering under his breath, "Everything alright? You went out of it for a little while."

She could only nod and squeeze King's hand back in reassurance. Of course everything was alright. Her foolish man had only been holding out so long because he had felt unworthy of her and only wanted her to have the best (he had told her this on the train ride here and she had nearly slapped him yet again). But she would wait no longer. Before the day was done, she would be Mrs. King Bradley and Fuhrer or not, he was still the same man she'd fallen for. That would never change. Not ever.

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><p><em>SQUEE! ! ! I LOVE THIS PAIRING and this is my first time writing it too! ! ! ! :D WRATHxMRS. BRADLEY IS LOVE! ! ! ! XD I can't help my hyperness, sorry! I originally had a hard time figuring out how I wanted to write this chapter, but once I decided for it to be their wedding day, the rest kinda fell into place, and I got to write more for the pairing than I had initially intended! XD<em>


	5. The Peak of Ambition

**Author's Note: *sigh* Talk about a drastic change of events. I went from Bradley's wedding to the Ishvalan War of Extermination, two horrifically-different emotional events. But on the other hand, I think it's a good contrast between his human and homunculus identities. So this is set from Mustang's POV. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not good with writing Brotherhood!Mustang. I understand his character far better in the first anime, so hopefully I made him seem sorta like himself.**

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><p><strong>The Peak of Ambition<strong>

It was done. This God-forsaken war was over at long last. No... no, it wasn't. The actual combat was finished, but not the fight from within. Roy clenched his hands into tight fists. He wouldn't ever be finished with this fight, not as long as he lived and breathed. Always... always those faces, those red eyes full of fear, youth, hatred, confusion, and age would hover just beyond his eyes, swimming in and out of focus, as well as the words of the last Ishvalan he had killed, 'I will never forgive you', would forever haunt him. He would never forget them... He couldn't... They would never leave him.

"'Hero'..." Roy growled. He had been called that today by the soldiers in his squad. "No, I'm a failure!"

He had wanted to _protect_ his country, not destroy it! All of this...! This wasn't a war, it was a slaughter. _So_ many people were killed and for what reason? What was the point? _Why_ did it happen at all? Fuhrer Bradley... He stood upon the wall so tall and proud as he gazed about the ever-growing and shrinking crowd of soldiers as more arrived from other districts and others left in the military trucks they'd arrived in. He had ordered this horror from Hell. What was his motivation? What could he possibly have to gain from destroying Ishval? There were so many questions that he had no answers to, but it made his blood boil. What kind of monster was he to take away the lives of so many tens of thousands of Ishvalans? Roy couldn't understand. No matter how he looked at it, _none _of it made any sense! That ever-persistent question 'why' kept rearing up whenever he came up with a possible answer, and he was thrown back into the depths of confusion. But if there was one thing he _did_ know, it was that he would not settle for this. He would fight Bradley and the entire government if he had to, to make sure that this never happened again. He would no longer obediently destroy when told.

Bradley turned his head sharply and stared down at him with a cool, measured stare, and Roy glared up at him in turn, his lips nearly curled upward into a snarl. He would get there. He would become the Fuhrer to protect everyone. Perhaps Hughes was right, that he was still an idealist, but he wasn't going to destroy anymore. He refused to and it was about time that he did what he set out to do when he first joined the military: protect the country and use alchemy to help, rather than to kill. The only thing that stood in his way of reaching that goal was King Bradley, himself. But not for long. He would live to see him gone and see this country be reverted back into a democracy. Roy wouldn't even dare to hope for more than that.

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><p><em>Episode 30 of Brotherhood and chapter 60 in the manga... *shudder* One of the hardest things I've ever watchedread was the scene where Bradley was talking to the High Priest of Ishvala. It's always a perfect reminder of why I had once hated him, before I finished the series._


	6. False King

**Author's Note: So, this one is from Ling's perspective. I know that I skipped some characters that are obvious (namely the Elric brothers), but they'll appear soon. It's just that Ling was the first human to learn that Bradley was a homunculus.**

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><p><strong>False King<strong>

After a long, active day filled with emotional turmoil and life-or-death battles, they, Ling, Lan-Fan, the Elric brothers, Mustang, and his Lieutenant, had all made it to the safe house outside of Central alive, if not in one piece and with a few additional members. Lan-Fan had lost her arm, Mustang had brought a man named Dr. Knox, who would hopefully be able to help her, and Alphonse had brought what he would swear up-and-down was a miniature panda from Xing, though he had _no_ idea how Al would have gotten one today. He hadn't left the city, much less traveled all the way to the East to go pick up a panda, but frankly, he had other concerns weighing heavily on his mind, namely Lan-Fan.

They had quickly explained her situation to Dr. Knox and the old man grimaced and scowled, "You let her wander around the sewers with her arm cut off?" he exclaimed, "Don't blame me if she gets lockjaw."

No, if there was anyone to blame, it was himself for having offered to help the Elrics catch a homunculus in the first place. Before he could protest, Lan-Fan was taken out of his arms by the Lieutenant and the doctor and they led her into the small bedroom in this wood house where hopefully, the doctor would be able to help her and prevent an infection. The Lieutenant was bringing a lantern with her, so there would be no problem with visibility. But now that Lan-Fan was beyond his help, Ling had entirely far too much time to think on his own and too much to think of. Part of his brain was spent fruitlessly worrying about Lan-Fan and the guilt that the loss of her arm was his fault, and the other part of his brain circled back to the man directly responsible for disabling Lan-Fan's arm, and he was filled with anger.

Fuhrer King Bradley... there were so many reasons why Ling hated him even after only meeting him once (that was plenty of times for him) including severing the tendons in Lan-Fan's left arm, but the one that _really _got his blood going was his views on how a king should rule his country. A king was nothing without his people! _Nothing!_ Yet this man... King Bradley... he was the leader of this entire country... A country that trusted him and looked up to him and he looked down upon them like insects or worse. They were nothing more than worthless _pawns_ to him to be thrown away like garbage when they ceased to be useful! That he was probably a homunculus helped explain _some _of this superior arrogance over humans, but it was no excuse! Bradley reminded him of his father, the Emperor; a man who didn't care how many of his children killed each other for his throne and their own survival. Men like that didn't deserve the right to be kings and it got him riled to even think of it!

And yet, Ling had to admit that he was puzzled. Their Fuhrer had an Ouroboros tattoo on his left eye and was working with the homunculus, Gluttony, but... he didn't feel the same. With Gluttony, it was almost like he was filled with hundreds of souls, but the Fuhrer appeared to have just one soul inside him. He couldn't make any sense of it, but frankly, he couldn't care too much at the moment. Bradley had been lying to this entire country for who knew how long and they continued to remain ignorant for all these years. Nobody suspected and it made Bradley that much more dangerous, for these people were willing to die to protect the life of their 'good' Fuhrer. And one more thing... if Bradley was anything like his father, then what had he done to this country while its citizens had their backs turned and were blinded by lies, and even more worrisome, what terrible things was this country in for? He knew this wasn't his country, but nobody should have to suffer a similar fate to that of Xing with all 43 of the Emperor's children, himself included, from the strongest to the weakest clans, including the Chang clan fighting and killing each other for the throne that is all equally their birthright.

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><p><em>Lol, this is late (tried to get it done yesterday, but I failed), because in-case you haven't noticed, I've been trying to upload a new chapter ever day. Oh well, it happens.<em>


	7. Unexpected Traitor

**Author's Note: And now for the (very) main protagonists, Ed and Al (lol, I say that because it's hard to define major vs minor characters in this anime/manga. :P Another thing, I'm using Ed and Al to kinda sum up how the other characters, like Armstrong, feel about Bradley's identity as a homunculus because they (the reactions) would be quite similar. Btw, I _really_ loved the chapter title that I chose for this one. XD**

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><p><strong>Unexpected Traitor<strong>

It was just one shock after another for them today as the Elric brothers entered the Fuhrer's office where Fuhrer Bradley sat at a circular table drinking some tea and looking so calm, and the Colonel sat on the other side of the table. The Fuhrer was the homunculus, Wrath? ! Ed had known for sure that the Fuhrer was a homunculus, Envy had confirmed it, but the information was still fresh and his reaction was as great a shock as Al's, for his confirmation was sitting right in front of them. It was horrifying and it almost seemed like some great big joke! Almost... The situation was _far_ from funny and there were too many wrong and terrible things that had happened during Bradley's reign such as the Ishvalan Civil War that they knew practically nothing about save what the rest of general populace of Amestris knew.

They couldn't deny the inevitable truth sitting right before their eyes, but it just seemed... so impossible that this man, King Bradley, was a homunculus! The man who had overseen the practical part of Ed's state alchemy exam, who had smiled at him and wished him the best of luck... the man who had snuck out of his office to visit him in the hospital and then jumped out the window to escape... the man who had a wife and son, a family, waiting for him to come home everyday... was the very same one who had just as good as severed Lan-Fan's arm and ordered the Ishvalan War of Extermination that had destroyed many lives and families and was responsible for the deaths of Winry's parents! ! ! How? How could they be one and the same! Two vastly different personas!

Shock was replaced by anger. They had been lied to, deceived, and not just them, the entire country! Worse yet, the rest of the country was _still_ in the dark about this one great, horrible truth, even the Fuhrer's family, the people he was closest to. The Elric brothers very much doubted that they knew anything of Bradley's true identity as a homunculus, an artifically-created human. A fake. A liar. A puppeteer. All he had to do was pull on their strings and watch them dance like fools for him.

"_And speaking of that time during the hospital..."_ Ed thought as he took a seat at the table with Al and Mustang and glared at the Fuhrer from across said table.

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><p><em>By my time, it's already the next day, but for some time frames, it's still the 12th of October, so I'm good. :P Got the two main protagonists done now!<em>


	8. Confessions to the Hawk

**Author's Note: *deep sigh of relief* Phwoo! Finally a break from all that angsty tension looking into the homunculus aspect of Bradley. Now it's time for more of his humanity from Riza's perspective this time.**

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><p><strong>Confessions to the Hawk<strong>

That was it. Riza had said her bit. Bradley had asked her opinion on what she thought of his and Selim's being homunculi and she had given it, regardless of how uncomfortable it was to speak these things aloud. The saddest part to her was that even his family was a lie.

"It _is_ true that Selim was appointed to be my son by my superior," Bradley admitted as he stood up from his chair to stand before one of the many windows. It was a cloudy gray sky today and looked like it might rain at any minute. "Everything from my power down to my rank was appointed to me. Most of my life is just an act."

And there she had it, straight from the horse's mouth. It appeared that Fuhrer Bradley had everything a man could ever want, a perfect life; her own life was _far_ from perfect, but at least it was what she had chosen. Where she was now was because of all the decisions she had made in her life. Fuhrer Bradley couldn't even claim that much, and it was sad.

"But my wife, at least... was of my own choosing."

Riza's eyes widened and she quickly turned around to stare at him, hoping that she hadn't misheard. His wife? He had actually chosen her?

Bradley turned away from the window. "Are you finished with the tea yet?" he asked.

"Ah, yes sir!" Hawkeye responded, a little startled, and offered the tray with the tea cup on it.

Bradley lifted the tea off the tray and raised the cup to his lips. He took a sip of the hot liquid and replaced it back on the saucer. "Delicious. Thank you."

He had chosen his wife. Riza hadn't known that. Hell, until this year, she hadn't known that he was a homunculus either, but that was besides the point. His life had been planned out to every last detail except in this. He had chosen the company of a human woman. She would never have- no, she _hadn't_ expected it of him and it occurred to her that perhaps the humans weren't the only ones he was lying to. That he had _chosen_ his wife, the only choice he'd ever made, suggested that he didn't hate humans as much as he was willing to let everyone believe, including the other homunculi. She wondered how much more of his original humanity he had retained after being turned into a homunculus. How much more of his human side was he hiding from the others?

But as she watched him, she saw the smile on his face. It was one of content and it was genuine. Despite the way his life had turned out, he was satisfied with it and it had to be enough for her. Whether he was Wrath or King Bradley didn't matter; there was no sense in pitying someone who so obviously didn't need it.

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><p><em>Obviously, I took this scene from episode 43 of Brotherhood and that's where all the dialogue comes from. This is probably one of my favorite scenes with Bradley. He didn't say all that much, but it gave us a <strong>huge<strong> insight into his character._


	9. The Worst Kind of Thief

**Author's Note: Sweet! It's a little after midnight my time, which means I can upload this! And now it's back to the intense actiony stuff starting with Greed (specifically Greedling)! Yeah, you knew this was coming! I'd have to be a complete _idiot_ NOT to include him! But now we're starting to get into some of the _really_ good scenes and characters! The end's in sight now. Only three more chapters after this unless I somehow think of a character in-between (but I sincerely doubt that). Squee! Another epic chapter title! :D Actually, I think all the chapter titles I've chosen from here on out are epic! XD**

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><p><strong>The Worst Kind of Thief<strong>

There were so many emotions swirling around inside him that he didn't even know his own mind anymore. There was the ever-present greed, of course, but then there was also confusion, horror, sorrow, fear, and more prominently than normal, anger. For the second time in his life, he felt more like Wrath than Greed, the _very_ last person that he wanted to resemble_ ever_! He didn't want to be _any_thing like him! Not the bastard who had killed his possessions! His friends! He had _no_ right to **take them from him! ! !** Who the hell did he think he was? ! ? Wrath had a wife, how would _he _like it if somebody killed _her_? ? ?And what the hell was he even doing? ! ? ! He was just _there_! _There_ at the Bradley mansion and now he was running away! He should still be there!

He wanted to kill, he wanted to maim, he wanted to see Wrath bleed, he wanted to make him _feel _the pain that _he _did! Make him suffer and feel this unbearable torment of emotion that assaulted him! He wanted Wrath to know his torment, to feel what it was like to lose everything that was precious to you! But Wrath wasn't like him in many ways and it both frustrated and angered him. Everything Wrath had had been _given_ to him except for his wife (but there was no way in hell that he could do anything about her, he didn't fight women) and there was nothing that he craved or desired! There was _nothing_ that Greed could take from Wrath to make him feel this gaping emptiness that threatened to swallow him at any minute! Bradley... Greed yelled aloud in anger and raked his carbon-shielded claws through the wall on his left as he continued to run... he had taken everything that was precious to him and Greed had no means to properly return the favor, but by the God that may or may not exist if his old man was to be believed, he would live to see Wrath's end even if it killed him! Such an evil would not go on unpunished! ! He _swore_ to it! ! !

Greed stumbled and he grabbed onto the nearby wall with one carbon-shielded hand, cutting through the stone like a warm knife through butter. He was a mess and he couldn't get his act together. He felt so many things but couldn't express them! Not all at once! He needed to retreat. He needed to hide. He needed to be somewhere no-one could reach him and there was only one place that he knew of. As Greed withdrew into his soul to confront the tempest of emotions within him, he completely forgot that he was sharing the body with the Xingese prince and when Greed had gone, Ling took control of his body again and made his way to the one safe place that he knew of in Central, that safe-house where they had taken Gluttony. It was good to be back in his own skin and Greed needed time to himself and the prince one more reason to hate the Fuhrer Bradley. But at the moment as he started walking, Ling's only concern was whether or not he would make it to the safe-house without dying of starvation first.

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><p><em>And there's the last of the homunculi for ya! I also added a bit more to Ling's in this which may detract from the fact that it's supposed to be from <strong>Greed's<strong> perspective, but considering that they're sharing the same body at the moment, I'm cutting myself some slack._


	10. Divine Punishment

**Author's Notes: Ha! Lol, anyone expect one from Truth? Because that's what this one is! I love stuff with Truth which makes me sad that he's never once appeared as a main character for a fic even though his name is on the list (unlike other characters such as Selim and Marcoh! ! ! DX)**

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><p><strong>Divine Punishment<strong>

Truth was one. He was all. He was the world. He was God. He was everything. He was nothing. He had many names and identities and He was the master of the world because He _was _the world. And such as He had created it, it obeyed the laws and consequences that He had set, namely the principle of Equivalent Exchange, a universal law of equal forces pushing against each other to create a neutral component and a net value of zero. The world continued on and He waited for no-one. The humans were endlessly intriguing today. They had now reached a critical juncture in which all their hopes rested on the shoulders of one man who had once been the country's enemy. The outcome of the battle between the scarred warrior and the hardened soldier would decide the world's fate.

He had been following the scarred one's journey for years now for His own personal reasons, so did not focus on him so much. His opponent was Wrath, Fuhrer King Bradley, Number 12, and the youngest 'son' of Homunculus, though they were completely unrelated, a human man who had lived for 60 years and spent about 40 of them as a homunculus. He feared nothing. No man, nor machine, nor God. No, he didn't even fear Himself nor death. He just fought. Fought and lived to fight some more. An endless cycle. Truth had to admit that he was a persistent one. His soul had dominated the thousands that had invaded his body during his youth and it had continued to dominate on the battlefield and in political situations. Wrath was one of the few humans that Truth admired for this reason. It was very difficult to find such strong souls that had the capability of overcoming a philosopher's stone simply to survive when death was so much simpler. But alas, He couldn't let him live. He had taken too many lives, both directly and indirectly and the equation was unbalanced. The first step to fixing the scale was to remove that which was tipping it. Such a pity, but His emissary was already in place to carry out His will, whether he knew it or not.

"Surely somewhere in the darkest depths of your heart," Bradley raised the sword up, his arm poised to lash out and stab the nameless Ishvalan right at the cross-section of the scar on his forehead, "You began to believe that there was no _God_ in this world at all!"

Truth smiled one of those wide grins of His. The only warning. The last warning. Then the moon moved over a fraction of an inch and struck the blade, reflecting back into Wrath's eyes and blinding him. This was His emissary's chance and he took it. There was no God in this world, eh? He had given him the death he'd always wanted. Wrath had never believed in Him, always believing that it was men to be weary of. What more fitting end to a godless man that at the hands of a religious man and His own chosen emissary?

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><p><em>I figure that Truth likes watching peoples' lives. I mean, it's not like there's anything else for Him to do (being stuck in an empty white world with nothing but a door and all that). And also, I figure that if it weren't for God watching out for Scar, he'd have died a long time ago. I mean really, there are so many times when Scar "should" have died (technically), but he didn't (YAY! Happy fangirl! XD)<em>


	11. A Riddle for the Warrior

**Author's Note: Alright! It's nearly the end of the line, now, and I'm **_**super **_**excited for it! ****I actually had a hard time coming up with the chapter title for this one, but I like the way it turned out. This chapter is for Lan-Fan.**

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><p><strong>A Riddle for the Warrior<strong>

Scar had gotten to him before her, but he wasn't dead yet, just lying there bleeding from the two stumps where his arms had been severed. She came out of the shadows into the light and he saw her. Lan-Fan removed her mask and glared down at him hatefully, the man who had taken her arm, but more importantly, had killed her grandfather.

"Here to avenge your grandfather?" Bradley asked dully, "Very well. Go ahead."

She wanted to. Honored ancestors knew she wanted to! But she had her honor. She wouldn't kill him. At least not yet, because even stronger than her hate was her pity. He had no purpose in life save to do what the homunculus leader told him. No reason for living, so she would give him this moment.

"Any last words you'd like to say?" she asked.

"None," he responded simply.

"Such a sad life," she stated aloud, "Tell me, Bradley. Was there... _any_one you loved? Any friends? Your wife?" Was there no-one for this man?

"My wife," Bradley answered.

"That was something at least. But...

"Are you saying you have nothing? No message for her? When she finds out what you are...!"

"Your trivial words of sorrow... Of love and guilt mean nothing to me young lady," Bradley chided, "My wife understands. She's the woman that _I_ chose to live by my side. There are no more words that need to pass between us now. That's what it means to be the wife of the Fuhrer."

Lan-Fan didn't understand. What did he mean by that? 'No words need to pass between us now'? She highly disagreed. If she were in his position, she'd want Master Ling to know how much he meant to her. She was disappointed. She was sure that Mrs. Bradley would feel even worse than _she_ did (as an uninvolved member) about receiving no final words from her husband. Well, she had tried for that woman's sake and it had been nothing more than a waste of time. Bradley couldn't have cared _that_ much for her if he was so heartless as this. He was dying and he had nothing that he wanted to say to the one person he claimed to love. So sad.

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><p><em>This was difficult. I didn't have that much to work with, sorry. Maybe when Lan-Fan's older, she'll understand what Bradley was trying to tell her.<em>


	12. Judgment of God's Emissary

**Author's Note: Final chapter and my favorite character, Scar. I'm both sad and happy at the same time (as I always am when I finish a multi-chapter fic). There are some parts of this that overlap with Lan-Fan's from the previous chapter. Also, I'm not sure if I'm the only one who noticed this, but in Brotherhood, Wrath stabbed Scar on the right side when in the manga, he stabbed him on the left side. Because there's a difference in this particular instance, I'll be following the manga-canon, so the dialogue will be directly taken from there as well.**

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><p><strong>Judgment of God's Emissary<strong>

Without trying, he had taken the ultimate revenge for the Ishvalans over what happened in Ishval. Scar realized this in hindsight as he pressed his hand to the messy sword wound torn into his left side in an attempt to stem the blood flowing out of him. He couldn't let this end him, he hadn't fulfilled his purpose yet.

"I never believed in God or an almighty being," Bradley chuckled dryly to himself as he gazed up at the sun and the moon continuing to separate from each other, "but I believe the phrase here is 'God has forsaken me', yes?"

He was dying in much the same way he nearly had at the end of the war. Losing too much blood from the stump that had once held his arm (arms in this case). There was neither fear of death nor defeat in his eyes, just acceptance. This was how his life was to end and there was nothing left to do now, but wait for it. The two dying nameless men heard her before they saw her, the Xingese warrior who was guardian to one of the princes of Xing if Scar remembered correctly, though her name escaped him. The first words Bradley spoke to her were of vengeance and when she removed her mask, Scar could see the hatred burning in her gray eyes, a look he had seen once on another young woman about her age not too long ago (a young woman who had directed those angry eyes at _him_). It seemed that Bradley had killed her grandfather, but she too did not take vengeance, but conversed with him in that curt way that the Miss. Rockbell had used with him (these young women were far stronger emotionally than he could ever claim to be and they put him to shame).

He watched them talk and listened silently. Bradley had chosen his wife which Scar found singularly odd seeing as how the homunculi were supposed to despise all humans, especially given the way Envy talked. Wrath had truly loved the woman he'd married and with this revelation came the ugly monster of guilt. It couldn't be helped, but once again, he was responsible for the deep sorrow of an innocent party involved, this time, the unsuspecting Madame Fuhrer of Amestris. The victim and the afflictor continued their conversation and Bradley was trying to give her his final words of wisdom as a dying man and not as a homunculus.

"There are no more words that need to pass between us now. That's what it means to be the wife of the Fuhrer."

Scar understood what he meant behind the words, but she was young, too young to understand yet. When you're married for a long time such as he had been, you come understand your spouse so well that you know them as well as yourself. There are no words that need to be said because you've said all you needed to during your life together. She was too young to understand such a concept for she had her whole life ahead of her, but she would remember his words because she would desire to understand and make sense of them. When she finally did, she would see the wisdom of it, but not now... too soon...

And Wrath's true age as a 60-year-old man finally seemed to be catching up to him. His hair was going white faster than it took a homunculus to regenerate a lost limb (or more, but definitely not less).

"I lived my life within the rules outlined for me," Bradley continued softly, but he wasn't talking to the Xingese woman anymore. "But thanks to you humans... Yes... Towards the very end, it was... a good life... a life worth living..." he admitted in his final breath and his human eye closed for the last time, never to open again.

Bradley had died smiling... the man who, with a single word, could have (and had) ordered the slaughter of entire populations of people both within the country and along the borders, yet somehow, Scar was okay with that... the smile. Even more curious still, he felt sorry for the man, the homunculus that represented his greatest sin. Never had a choice in his life... not, but one... and it was them, humans, that had made his life bearable. It made him wonder... Back then, he had said 'When they don't do what I expect them to do, it really makes me angry', but he had been smiling. It hadn't been a fake smile (he would have seen through it), but a genuine one.

Ah. That was how it was. He understood now. Bradley was always on stage, even then in a secluded room underground amongst people who were all fully aware of his identity as a homunculus. His words and his expression hadn't matched up back then, but in Wrath's dying moments, there was no more acting... no need to pretend anymore... he was himself and he had died a free man. At his core, he was more human than homunculus and they were not so different from each other. Death would come to free him soon too and though regretful as it was, he had made his life, for the most part, what it was. This man had chosen only two things, his wife and his means of escape from the steel vice-like control over his life. For Bradley, death was a form of freedom and he was the one who had delivered him to it. He didn't need to worry about dancing for the puppeteer any longer. The strings had been cut.

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><p><em>Done! My first multi-chapter FMA fic... done! Now I will both celebrate and cry that it's done. Maybe this isn't what you were expecting from Scar of all people, but this event did happen several months post-meeting-Miles (ie. When Scar's character changes started becoming more active on his own accord. :P) and when I was looking at the page where Bradley died and then the page after, I noticed that Scar had such a sad, understanding look on his face! (and he was so adorable, I squealed! XD)<em>


End file.
